


Tasting Alkaline

by tiredly



Series: Whisper Something [3]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Freeform, M/M, Post-Break Up, Pre-Canon, Reconciliation, Underage Drinking, broganes, proposal
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-14
Updated: 2018-12-14
Packaged: 2019-09-18 06:43:03
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,894
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16989987
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tiredly/pseuds/tiredly
Summary: Keith had a lot to hold on to. This time, he wasn't going to run from it.





	Tasting Alkaline

_ “I hate you.” _

 

-

 

Another clear night. Keith had grown to dread those. With a barely-maintained house in the middle of ass-end nowhere, with no clouds, what more was there to do but sit outside and appreciate their absence? And, with the view of the Milky Way complete and projecting itself onto Earth, how Keith supposed to stop himself from thinking about every part of his life that made him want to go back inside and swallow his own knife?

One part. It was one part, specifically. Only, in fact. There was only one fucking topic that went under said category. 

Naturally, it was the only thing that came to mind during nights like these. 

Keith scowled and downed another gulp of whiskey. It hurt going down his throat - it always had. He didn’t know why that seemed to hit him so hard every time. 

See, the thing was, he did have a lot to be upset over. Hell, almost everything in his life had gotten sour. He hadn’t had a family since he was seven years old. Shiro was gone. His free scholarship had gone to fuck-all after a week from leaving the Garrison. And he was, as it happened, hunting down some huge lion that he saw on a cave wall (with very few results, one might add).

But it wasn’t quite his downfall. His father’s death still hurt - of course it did. But he was a child, and as many things tend to, it molded him. Shaped him. He grew up, and thought about it every day. Time didn’t fix things, but they did ease them. He couldn’t stay tender forever. And he didn’t. 

Shiro was… well. Shiro’s death was bullshit. That, Keith ran with. Held close and warm and used to motivate him. He would accept it once he learned the truth about it, but it hadn’t been told to him when he said as much. He saw the eyes of the agents, he saw their minds. Guarded. Cold. And he didn’t believe them. 

Finding the lion, whatever it was, was what kept him sane. It wasn’t much to go off of - practically nothing, really. But Keith had to try. He didn’t have the Garrison anymore. And really, he was fine with that. He was fine with not being a student. There never truly was an overwhelming need to stay there. Physically, mentally, he found himself leaving it with ease.

But there was nothing to prepare him for what came with that. Nothing he could use to smother the wound, to stitch himself back together, to silence the still gaping, still churning, still widening chasm that was placed just a little differently, and hurt him in just a little more specific place. 

It was Lance. Funny, sweet, beautiful Lance. The boy from his flight group with just a little too much __ to ignore. The arms around his waist, flying and whooping as Keith dove the both of them off a jump. The shy smile that made an appearance the morning after their nights together, accompanied by a cup of coffee and cream that he’d brewed before class.

_ “You know that I like it black.” _

_ “Coffee has no sustenance alone, and we can’t have the golden boy falling asleep mid flight. Besides, my coffee tastes good. Scout’s honor.” _

Keith found that cream didn’t taste so bad after all. And maybe it was the coffee or maybe it was something else, but those days he always did feel a little more warm.

But he was cold now, so cold. And no amount of hot, smoky air burning up his lungs would change that. He exhaled and watched it fade out into the night sky. 

Pathetic, really, he was deplorably pitiful. But it was so cold. Ice chipped away at him, spreading it’s fingers out into his chest and slowly killing him. And he couldn’t complain. He did this, he did all of it, to himself. 

For Lance wasn’t the cause of it. Lance, with his soft hands and coconut scented shampoo, with his sparkling eyes and freckles that Keith loved to count at night. Lance didn’t dig the hole in Keith’s chest. Lance was the part of Keith that was missing. 

(Keith was the one who left him behind, anyway.)

He went back to sucking on his cigarette, blinking away the tears pricking at the corner of his eyes, but not able to swallow the lump in his throat. 

 

-

 

_ “Didn’t know you smoked.” _

_ “Do you mind?” _

_ “I mean, whatever, you know? It’s a little hot.” _

_ “Ha.” _ _  
_

_ “But you’re doing it to be edgy, yeah? You’re not addicted? Because what’s a little not-hot is lung cancer. No me gusta.” _

_ “Um. I mean, no? I’m not addicted. I don’t really do it often. It’s just… sometimes.” _

_ “Sometimes.” _

_ “Yeah.” _

_ “And not multiple at once?” _

_ “That’s too expensive.” _

_ “Okay. Valid. You can live.” _

_ “I’m, uh, glad you think so.” _

_ “Mind kissing me though? I’ve always wanted to kiss someone right after they take a drag.” _

_ “You’re... insane.” _

_ “That’s not a no.” _

 

-

 

Even before meeting Lance, loving Lance, leaving Lance, Keith had had a certain talent for self-destructing. More accurately, he’d had a talent for trying to self-destruct, and then walking away unscathed. Unharmed, though that word was limited to his exterior only - the same couldn’t be said for his mentality.

It was his clenched fist connecting with the stomach of another boy in foster care (that one had felt good), the rumble of the stolen car filling him with adrenaline (to this day, he couldn’t figure out how that one had worked out in his favor), the burn of flat liquor sliding down his throat, making him feel warm again, making him remember how to breathe, making the thoughts in his head slip away quietly as if they’d never been there in the first place. 

Or it was watching the screen of his phone light up on the bed, three feet from him, wishing for the strength to lift his finger and answer the call (that one hadn’t felt good at all). Watching as it went to voicemail, as texts began coming in, begging for some answer, any answer, when all he wanted to do was give one (somehow, that one felt even worse). And then, eventually, seeing the last message he’d receive for fuck knew how long. 

_ Bye _ .

One night (he couldn’t say which one - they’d begun to blur together months ago), and at least three glasses down, he had driven the bike up to the Garrison. Gotten a stone in his hand, ready to throw it. As soon as he could find Lance’s bedroom window. That was what people did, right? 

He remembered an old song, one that Lance hummed often.  _ You were Romeo, you were throwin’ pebbles _ . Just a few notes popped into his head, and his jaw tightened. The melody brought with it traces of smoke and blue skies, the smell of coconut shampoo, the warm hands wrapped around his shoulders. Why hadn’t Keith paid attention to the rest of the song?

There weren’t enough rocks outside the Garrison. That was rude of them, to be honest.  _ Then again, _ Keith thought as he searched through blurry vision to find one big enough to catch Lance’s attention,  _ it was never a very romantic place. _

He found a rock. He weighed it in his hand. Was it big enough? Fuck it. He was going to find out, wasn’t he? He pulled his arm back, and lobbed it at the window he thought was Lance’s. And then he waited. 

Two minutes passed (less than two? More? Keith couldn’t read the numbers on his watch). Lance didn’t open the window. Maybe it wasn’t him. Or, Keith realized with a sinking stomach, maybe it was Lance - and he just didn't want to see Keith. 

Keith didn’t care to stick around and be seen by someone else. Not that he would be recognized by many people in that hell. Lance, Shiro - they had been the only ones that might care enough to, but that didn’t matter now, did it, because they were both gone. Just like his mother. Just like his father. Maybe it wasn’t the people around him guilty of leaving; maybe it was him guilty of sending them away.

He threw his helmet back on his head - not bothering to buckle it on his chin; what was the point, anyway, when he knew the bike better than the house he lived in - and swung his leg over the seat. 

He fell off the bike for the first time in his life that night - going over the cliff jump that Shiro had shown him all those years ago. He had built up the speed, drove off the edge, and all he could hear was Lance whooping in his ear. 

He screwed up the landing. Maybe broke a bone, too. But as he laid on his back, gasping for breath and paralyzed in shock, he couldn’t even feel it over the pain of the self-inflicted rips in his heart.

 

-

 

_ “Tell me something.” _

_ “Something?” _

_ “Yeah. I’m not picky.” _

_ “Okay. Hunk and I went to that flower garden yesterday.” _

_ “Oh?” _

_ “It was really nice there. And I’d thought you wouldn’t want to go in a group, but… maybe you and I can go. Just, you know. Just us.” _

_ “Are you asking me out on a date?” _

_ “Keith, I have three hickeys right now, and it’s only been, like, ten minutes since I stepped through your door.” _

_ … _

_ “Why are you laughing? I’m right.” _

_ “I know. You’re just cute.” _

_ “You spoil me. So… how about it?” _

_ … _

_ “Taking the bike out to town. Nobody there will recognize us.” _

_ … _

_ “Keith?” _

_ “… I think I can do that.” _

 

-

 

Keith led Lance onto the dance floor, hands held high - at shoulder height, just like Coran had taught them to do. Adorned in the robes that the planet’s inhabitants had insisted on giving them, Lance looked beautiful. Like he was born to be covered in these glittering fabrics made of jewel fibers and silk, like he was born to be the subject of these ceremonies thrown for him. Like he was born to be worshipped. And by God, Keith vowed that he would worship him as long as he lived. 

“You look beautiful tonight, you know,” he said quietly - the species might not have any notably strong ears, but he didn’t trust all of the prying eyes. This wasn’t their dance. 

“You sap,” Lance said, but he was blushing, and it was just about the most beautiful sight Keith had ever seen. 

“I’m serious,” he mumbled. 

“Stop it, jerk, my face is getting red.” Lance’s sharp tongue did nothing to take away from his rosy cheeks and bashful smile.

“What, I can’t even hype you up? In front of all these people who stopped fighting in a literal  _ war  _ after seeing you? You’re asking for too much.”

“They saw Voltron, Keith, but there’s no way they actually saw my face.”

“Well I did. I do. Gotta say, you’re worth stopping a war over.” Keith looked around, saw a few of the ambassadors looking at them. “I think they agree.” Lance beat his fist on Keith’s chest lightly, hanging his head and hiding his face. Draped in blue and gold that shimmered when he moved, he looked like an angel. And maybe he was.

“You don’t look bad yourself.” Keith smiled, and let them sway to the music for a few more minutes - Coran may have taught them to walk onto the floor, but there was no common interplanetary dance to learn, and they would rarely have opportunity to use it if there were, so they swayed. Because they were defenders of the universe, and because Keith was too in love with Lance to care about any dancing custom, and because the rest of their lives was looking pretty damn beautiful without fancy footwork overcomplicating it. 

“Do you wanna go outside?” He asked Lance quietly, after the song shifted to a different tempo. Lance nodded with his head on Keith’s shoulder, and took his hand again.

 

-

 

_ “Lance?” _

_ …  _

_ “Are you awake?” _

_ … _

_ “Okay. Good.” _

_ … _

_ “You said that you loved me. Tonight. And I didn’t say it back.” _

_ … _

_ “I haven’t.” _

_ … _

_ “And I’m thinking. Well. Maybe I should.” _

_ … _

_ “Even if you can’t hear me.” _

_ … _

_ “I love you too, Lance.” _

 

-

 

“So, what’s up?” Lance asked, looking up at the sky. Keith glanced at it too - every planet had a different view, and this one had a moon so big that it took up half the sky. 

“I don’t know. I’m just tired. And it’s not crowded out here. More fresh air,” Keith said, taking a seat next to him. There was a whistling, maybe some kind of wind, or nocturnal animal on the planet. Keith had never heard anything like it.

“So,” Lance says. “Pidge started drinking some of that purple stuff just a few minutes after we got here-”

“Isn’t she still twelve?”

“Crazy, huh? She’s, like, almost an adult now. What the fuck?” They snicker together at the thought, because really, Pidge was always enough of a menace without the legal protection to get drunk off her ass. 

“But,” Lance continued, “she says there are really strong drinks, ‘cause the natives have some crazy high metabolism. Or some other scientific stuff? I don’t know about how a liver works, I only use it. So…” he turned and sat up on his knees, wiggling his eyebrows at Keith. “Shot competition? Not now, it’s still too calm in there, but… for old time’s sake?”

Keith grinned, feeling a spike of warmth in his chest - knowing that after everything they’ve been through, Lance was still the same person that Keith fell in love with at the Garrison. So he leaned in, and took Lance’s shining face in hand, and kissed him while the music played from inside. 

Lance was smiling as they broke apart, face blushing, and Keith is, once again, reminded of the small parcel resting in his pocket. 

“Do you remember that one song, that one from, like... the twenty first century? You would always hum it.”

“You’ve gotta elaborate on that one.”

“By that blonde chick.”

“Taylor!” Lance sat up and laughed. “Tay-Tay herself.”

Keith rolled his eyes. “Yeah.” He was starting to remember why it had driven him crazy.

“What about her?” Lance asked.

“Well, it’s a little embarrassing,” Keith mumbled, but Lance whined, and so he had to keep going. “I stood under your window and threw rocks at it once. At least, I think it was your window.”   


“You threw rocks at my window?”

“Tried to.” Keith huffed. “And that song was stuck in my head, that part about Romeo throwing pebbles. And then I crashed the bike and dislocated my wrist.” Lance was quiet. “I was drunk though, so I probably got off that one kinda easy.”

It seemed like Lance was trying to think of the right words to say, but his mouth kept opening and closing. Like he was writing and erasing words before he voiced them. “Keith…” He finally settled on Keith’s name, his voice soft. 

Keith knew that this subject was always going to be emotional for Lance, their time in the Garrison. It was hell to think about for him, too. The memories were bad ones, the underlying reminder was painful. But Keith was going somewhere. 

“You.” Lance swallows. “You never told me that.”

“It never came up.” Keith took Lance’s hand and they walked to the edge of the balcony. “But… huh. I don’t know how to say this.”

Lance laughed, a little bit of nervousness showing on his face. “How to say what?” 

Keith turned to face him. “I love you, Lance. You know that, don’t you?” Lance nodded. “And you bring out the best in me. You always have, even though I like to think that my best now is, well, a lot better than my best back when we met.”

“Your hair looks nicer,” Lance supplied. Keith barked out a laugh, taken off guard. 

“Maybe you’re just finally admitting that you like it long.” Lance blushed and turned away, so Keith continued with a smile. “I lost you once. I left. And it was the biggest mistake of my life. I think about it constantly. How close I was to just… never seeing you again.” He glanced up, and Lance’s eyes were wet. He raised a finger to wipe at the tears - Lance never liked messing up his makeup. “But I guess the universe had different plans for us. I guess… I guess we weren’t meant to be apart.”

He dropped Lance’s hand, sliding down onto one knee. Lance choked on a gasp. 

“So, instead of taking everything for granted, I’ve decided that I’m not going to let you go. Sorry.” Lance gave a watery laugh; he was crying in genuine now, and Keith thought that he was the most beautiful he’d ever been under the full moon. “Lance McClain, will you give me the honor of spending the rest of my life with you?”

Instead of answering, Lance dragged Keith off the ground and pulled him into a kiss. Keith could feel the fresh tears on his cheeks, taste the salty water on Lance’s lips, and he was reminded so vividly of the ocean. Lance broke away eventually, and held Keith’s face two inches from his own. 

“Yes.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading!!
> 
> This series has meant a lot to me, and I think this is a fulfilling ending. If you wanted to check out my other vld fics I would love you forever, and you can hang out with me on tumblr @thebrosefstalin. 
> 
> Kudos are appreciated, comments are cherished <3


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